This hour I tell things in confidence/ I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.
Walt WhitmanAll goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
Mots clés afterlife living life-and-death
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun.... there are millions of suns left,
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand.... nor look through the eyes of the dead.... nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.
Mots clés poetry
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I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least.
Walt WhitmanThis is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me
Walt WhitmanMots clés poetry new-york-city
The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to your nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place, search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
Mots clés inspirational spiritual mystic
I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an early riser, a steady grower.
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I cannot be awake, for nothing looks to me as it did before, or else I am awake for the first time, and all before has been a mean sleep.
Walt WhitmanMots clés epiphany walt_whitman
Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems
Walt WhitmanMots clés poetry
Sail, sail thy best, ship of democracy,
Of value is thy freight, 'tis not the present only,
The past is also stored in thee,
Thou holdest not the venture of thyself alone, not of the western continent alone,
Earth's resume entire floats upon thy keel, O ship, is steadied by thy spars,
With thee Time voyages in trust, the antecedent nations sink or swim with thee,
With all their ancient struggles , martyrs, heroes, epics, wars, thou bear'st the other continents,
Theirs, theirs as much as thine, the destination-port triumphant..
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